To Everything There is a Season
by Ryla Dante
Summary: Sam and Dean have been having so many problems lately. Sam finally has enough, and makes a wish that could destroy them both. Found out what happens in this Supernatural take on It's a Wonderful Life. Caution: coarse language, violence, and wincest.
1. Chapter 1

Well, here is the story I mentioned. It is a combination of "It's a Wonderful Life," "A Christmas Carol," and the beautiful "Supernatural." Hope you get your, as KateCyrus says, SNOD.

Please let me know if you see any errors. I read the damn thing over and over I don't know how many times, but my grammar is for shit. Oh if you have virgin ears, bypass this story, for I have them cussing every five flipping seconds. Yeah it's silly and ignorant, but these are the moody, angsty Winchester boys. That is their only outlet.

**A/N:** I do not own the charcters excpet for the few that pop up somewhere in the plot. You'll know 'em when ya see 'em.

Enjoy the furst chapter, review much, and happy holidays!!

**To Everything There is a Season**

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"Speak when you are angry, and you will make the best speech that you will every regret." 

Laurence J. Peters (1919 - 1988)

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens."

J. R. R Tolkien (1892 - 1973)

Snow splattered against the windows of the hotel room, causing Sammy's breath to fog up the glass. He breathed out one last time, then wiped away the steam. Dean laid sprawled out on the bed behind him, dressed in a goofy sweater he had bought him. Dean had despised it, but it had been Christmas after all. It was red with a huge green tree on it and the words 'Have a Merry Christmas' printed on it. Dean bought Sam an Ipod, and he didn't think it was a very fair trade.

Sam turned from the window and eyed his brother. Their relationship had taken a strange turn lately, and he hated it. If their dad had not died, they could have at least stayed on even ground, but once that happened, that ground shifted. Now he had fallen through into a dark pit praying for daylight. His brother was out of control, flew off the handle at the simplest of things. It scared Sam.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours Sam?" Dean sat up and looked into Sam's eyes. His brother closed his tightly, rubbing them with his fists. He did not feel like going into that subject at all tonight. Every time they got close, things just seemed to fall apart. Just a touch from his brother, seemed to tear him up. He just couldn't take it anymore.

"I...I think I'm going to go for a walk." He stood, grabbing for his coat. Dean's eyes darkened. He knew that he and Sam had been having problems lately, but he was usually the one to avoid conflict as of late, but not Sam. He grabbed Sam's arm and held on tight. The touch of Dean's warmth on top of his sweatshirt, made his stomach jump. It had been months since they had been intimate, weeks since they had even kissed. John Winchester's death had turned their semi-sane world upside-down and pissed on it in a matter of minutes.

"Don't do this Dean, not now." He tried to pull away, but Dean held tight. Sam gritted his teeth, and looked back out the window avoiding his brother's fiery stare. It burned into him like hot coals on a cold winter's night in Maine. They lingered this way for a while, then Dean made the first move. He stood next to Sam, still holding his arm.

"Please Sam, I know I've been a bastard, but just talk to me." He tried to get Sam's attention, but he just would not look at him. Dean forced his brother's face back to his, and tears were slipping down Sam's delicate skin. Dean let go of his brother's arm without knowing it.

"I can't, not now." He moved away from Dean, finally slipping on his coat. He grabbed for the door handle, but Dean stopped him.

"Can't we talk for a minute at least?" He begged, something he hated doing.

Sam opened the door and snow billowed in. The wind blew his hair around his head like a halo, and Dean almost lost it. He reached for Sammy, but he pulled away. The older of the two bit his top lip and shoved at the door, pushing it from under Sam's grip. Sam watched it slam shut and eyed Dean angrily.

"What didn't you understand, the 'fuck' or the 'you?'" He yelled at Dean, which infuriated him. For his little brother, his lover, to snap at him for no plausible reason pissed him off royally.

"Listen, I am just trying to get past all of the bullshit we keep slinging at each other..." He leaned against the door, fists pressed against his sides. It was the way to keep the anger down, or else he would fucking explode.

"There used to be a time when we could just sit and talk to each other..." Sam glared at Dean, watching his demeanour. He knew that he was pissed, and he wanted to get out before all hell broke loose.

"But now whenever we get near each other it is like Pearl fucking Harbour, and you're Japan." Sam pushed him aside and made another move for the doorknob, but Dean grabbed him first. Their faces were inches away from each other. Sam could smell booze on Dean's breath, scotch, their father's favourite drink. He wanted to spit in Dean's face, to hit him, to do anything to show him how he felt at this very moment. His feelings for him had lessened, and he hated himself for it, if only just a little.

"You think you have been such a fucking joy to live with, do you?" Dean pushed Sam back against the door hard, and a sense memory shot through him like wildfire.

The last time they had been together was only a week prior to the accident. They had gone back to their hotel after dealing with the first vampires, and the weight of everything had taken its toll on them both. Dean was in a hell of a mood, had a couple beers to many, but Sammy let him take him just the same. The sex was fast and hard, and Dean did not even listen to Sam as he pleaded for him to stop. Afterwards, Sam was sore and crying. Dean's tune changed fast when he saw this, and he held Sammy until they both fell asleep.

"You know what...?" Sam returned to the present, grabbing Dean hard. His heart skipped a beat as he said the next sentence. It would be the last thing he would say to Dean.

"I wish I had never been born, in fact I wish I was dead!" He swung around, knocking Dean back hard. The shock of Sam's words had taken him for a loop. Sam flung the door open and stormed off into the night, disappearing in the blanket of flakes. Dean rushed after him, but it was too late.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam walked through the storm, now almost a complete white out. He pulled the collar of his coat up to his ears and shivered. He was still pissed, but the feeling was slowly turning into sadness. He hated himself for blowing up at Dean, but he felt that he deserved it. The way their lives had been lately, it was like walking on frigging bouncing betty's. Once false move and you'd blow your ass to kingdom come. His eyes filled with tears that always seemed to be there lately. He wiped them away before they had the chance to fall, and walked further, until he saw a blinking sign ahead of him. It was a bar, one they had passed on the way into the motel parking lot. 'Dark Side Tavern.' He sighed at the irony of the name, and walked the last ten feet to the wooden door.

Inside a house band was playing some heavy metal music. _Great,_ Sam thought, _try to get_ _away_ _from it, and it comes to kick you in the ass._ He looked at the small number of patrons. Two men were sitting at the bar laughing and joking about some blonde with big tits. They laughed again as the joke ended. The man on the left, dressed in a black ski jacket and a grey wool cap, slapped the other on the back. The man on the right slammed his empty beer bottle on the bar and shouted for the bar maid. He had an accent that Sam could just barely place. It sounded like something out of the movie 'Fargo.'

" 'ey wench, my buddy and I need more beer here ya see." He snorted loudly, and his friend smacked him again. He smiled and Sam could see a perfect set of teeth. He was not expecting that. Maybe they were false.

The bar maid came out from the back room slamming a box on the counter. Her red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. Her grey eyes were drained of life, and she looked like she was about and inch away from kicking someone's ass.

"You want another fucking beer Earl, you get it your own damn self!" She grabbed his empty bottle and threw it against the back wall. It shattered, splintering pieces of brown glass down on to the barroom floor. Earl's buddy stopped smiling. He sat up fast, and grabbed at Earl's jacket. Earl never moved.

"Listen Dana, you're the bartender here only cause daddy decided it was best left to you." He stood, and Sam realized for the first time how big this man really was. He stood a good seven feet tall, broad shoulders that were as wide as the door Sam had just walked through. His eyes were so dark brown they were almost black. This man was not someone you wanted to fuck with.

"I am not afraid of you, so you either sit you ass down or get the fuck out!" Dana moved as close to the bar as would be allowed. She was at last a foot and a half shorter than the older man, but you could tell who was the one with the real balls.

Earl gave her one last look, then motioned for his buddy to leave. They stomped passed Sammy, almost knocking him down as they did so. He watched them get into a Chevy 4x4 and hall ass out of the parking lot, tires spinning on the snow the whole time.

Dana turned away from the bar and began to clean up the mess. Sam slid beside her to help. She looked up at him, and her eyes lit up slightly. It had been a while since she had seen anyone like him in here. She usually only got people like her brother Earl and that dick lick he hung with. Earl would never admit it, but the man he had just left with had been his lover for the last fifteen years. Her brother played it so fucking cool, putting down the 'faggots' and the 'queers' but he was one himself.

Dana returned her attention to the handsome young man in front of her, and smiled. He smiled back, and she almost melted. She continued looking at him, his gorgeous hazel eyes with a small scar above the right one. She wanted to touch it, to feel the story behind it. Preoccupied, Dana never noticed the small sliver of glass that had imbedded itself into her left hand. The blood dripped onto the floor silently. Sam grabbed her hand, placing a nearby towel on it. Her eyes stayed locked on his. Then, out of the blue, her lips were on his, tasting his heat and a beer he had just before coming here. Sam tried to pull away, when a flash of light engulfed them both, and he felt hot all over. The light dimmed, and he saw something that scared the hell out him.

The bar was gone, and they were now outside and were standing in the eye of a hurricane made of snow. It circled them wildly. Sam stood vicariously at the edge of the circle and caught sight of Dana's eyes. The grey had changed to a bright yellow. An eery smile spread across her thin lips. Her red hair spun around her heart shaped face, creating the illusion that her head was afire. Sam wanted to scream. He had been tricked. He could not believe that everything that had just transpired was all a fucking joke, a magic show.

"Oh Sammy, I wish we could have met under better circumstances." The daemon spoke, the smile never leaving her beautiful facade. She 'floated' toward Sam, the snow filtering around her.

Sam stepped back, and hit something hard. Turning to see only snow, he wondered what he had hit. 'Dana' looked behind him and laughed. The laughter chilled Sam to his very marrow. It wasn't a silky laugh he would have expected from the woman before him. It was a devilish laugh, filled with fire and sulfur, and filled the air gagging Sam, making him choke.

"Lovely isn't it?" She pointed at their surroundings. "The entire circle is rock solid, no way in, and better yet, no...way...out." The beast drug out the last three words just for emphasis.

"Why are you doing this to me?" He watched her closely, making sure she didn't pull a fast one on him. Her hand slowly lifted to his forehead, and a powerful surge of heat filtered from her touch. He dropped to his knees, his eyes closed tight. Pain shot across where she had touched him, behind his eyes, and to his temples.

"I know more then you could possibly image Samuel. I know your very thoughts, dreams, and nightmares." She kneeled in front of him, the smell of sulfur overpowering him. He fought to breath.

"I know the very thing that you wish, and I can make it all possible. All you have to do is ask. Five simple words, and all of your pain, agony and heartache goes away." She stood once more, and his pain intensified, as if to prove her point. He grabbed at his chest and fell to the cement.

He knew it was wrong, making a deal with her, but he wasn't in his right frame of mind. A terrible hand had been dealt to him, and he could not hold so many cards without all of them showing. Sam looked up slowly, then before he knew what he was doing, mouthed five words that would seal his and Dean's fate forever.

"I wish I was dead..."

'Dana' waved a hand over his head, lifting him up to his feet. The pain dissipated, and was replaced with a coolness. The storm walls had fallen in on him, and the snow was covering him from head to toe. Sam fell backwards, falling into a drift pile. 'Dana' laughed again, the sound echoing off the winter wind.

"Your wish is granted, Sammy. I hope everything is as you like it." She began to walk away then turned back to the stunned young man on the ground.

"Oh, by the way, this comes with one small proviso." She swirled her hand with the snow, and it disappeared in front of her. The bar returned around them, but it looked so much different. The atmosphere reminded him of where his father used to spend his time when Dean was little. Why was he seeing this?

Sam sat up, fear turning to shock then to anger. He was pissed at himself for being mislead, for being tricked into something so fucking stupid. If Dean were here he would kick his ass. He'd tell Sammy what a fuck-nut he was then smack him. God he was so stupid.

"What do you mean 'proviso?'" Yet, before he could get an answer out of her, she disappeared, leaving him alone in the dingy old bar.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanx for the much awaited reviews: That would be m00 and Sandy!! Props you guys!!

Hope you guys enjoy the next chapter...there is much more to come...

Once again...Happy Holidays!!

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Suddenly, pain shot though him like he had never experienced before. Falling hard to his knees, he hit the wooden floor, causing more pain. His hand flew to his forehead, which was now blazing hot. The bar almost melted in front of him, looking like a Dali painting. Colours ran together then finally everything went black. Sam hit the floor, if there even was one, and cried out. Whatever was happening at this very moment was one hundred times worse than any vision he had ever had. As he continued to hold his head, scenes flew past him like a terrifying montage.

He saw Dean as a child. He was in their old living room watching 'Sesame Street.' Their mother was washing dishes, and their father was at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. It looked so warm and cozy, and Sam wanted to cry. His father put the paper down, and he caught sight of the date. It was September 10th, 1982. Sam groaned as the vision scared the living hell out of him. He was there, the day it happened, the day his mother died.

His father stood and put his strong arms around his wife. Mary laughed, and Sam did cry. That was a sound, even though he had only been six months old, he remembered. She turned and kiss John, then pushed past him. Dean was singing along to the show, unaware as to what was about to transpire in the next few hours.

As his parents left the room, he saw Dean switch the tv off and head for his room. That was when Sammy really lost it. It was completely different. Dean's bed was under the window where Sam's crib should have been, and the colour pattern was all wrong. Where was Sam? What the hell was going on?

Mary walked in a few minutes later to tuck Dean in. He smiled up at her, that little dimple of his showed brightly. She kissed him on the forehead and began to walk out of the room, when he said something that startled Sam.

"Will you ever have another baby mommy?" His eyes wide and filled with awe. Mary shook her head, tears starting to well in her own blue ones.

Sam wanted to scream to her, tell her that he was right here, that she had another son. Yet his throat would not cooperate. He could only watch the horror that would ensue.

His mother left the room, shutting the door behind him. He watched Dean roll over in his big boy bed, and could hear light sniffles coming from him. What was happening here? His mother walked down the hall to her own room and flopped down on the bed. John walked out of the bathroom and saw that she was crying. He put his arms around her, but she pushed him away. Sam knew he did not like to be rejected, he never did. John tried again, and this time she hit him, opened handed, across the face.

Sam's father backed up, stunned. Mary Winchester had never done this, no matter how upset she had gotten. Now he was the one to get angry.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" He stood over her, as if to intimidate her. It did not work. Mary may have been a small women of only 5' 4", but she was not one to back down. She stood, wiping her eyes, and put a thin hand on John's chest. He eyed it, not sure how to interpret the gesture. Staying still, he waited for her to make the first move. She looked up into his eyes, no small feat, for he was a man of 6'.

"Our son has just asked us what you said he never would." Her hand pressed hard against his chest. John closed his eyes tightly. He cursed silently, hoping this day would never come.

"After Sammy died at birth, after I almost died, we knew that I couldn't have anymore." She let her hand drop, her bravado dying with each word.

John knew that this was the right moment, and he took it. He grabbed his wife, and she let him. They held each other for the longest time, Mary's body shaking from a much deserved let out. When he knew she was ready, he let her go. He wiped her eyes with a callused thumb, and kissed her gently on the lips. She smiled weakly, but he accepted it all the same.

The scene changed to later in the evening. His parents were lying in bed together, holding each other in such a way that, if they didn't, everything would be lost. As Sam watched, his eyes filling with terror and confusion, as the inevitable came to pass. His mother began to tremble, then to shake violently. John shot awake, turning on the bedside lamp. His wife's eyes were trained upon the ceiling, her body now rigid. Then, in the blink of an eye, she was pulled to the ceiling. John reached for her, but it was too late. Just as she hit the ceiling, the bedroom door opened, and Dean tiptoed in. He had awakened to a strange noise, and wanted to see what was happening. As he looked up at his mother, he screamed. Flames leapt all around her, engulfing her beautiful body. Dean hit the floor, still screaming. John flew off the bed, grabbing his son and rushed him from the house. Dean never stopped looking back at the room where his mother was being burned alive.

Sam let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead. The scene he had just darkened, and vanished. He could barely fathom what he had just seen. So much was the same, but so much was different. Maybe it was all a big dream, just his imagination playing tricks with him. Then he got flashes of other scenes that seemed to intermingle with themselves.

Dean was now age twelve, and he was out hunting with John. He looked wasted, and not in the tired way of speaking. He kept eyeing his father nervously, almost as if he was hiding something. John held a shot gun at his side, blood on his shirt and careworn face. The old Ford coughed at their side, steam billowing from the tail pipe in the cold night air. Dean coughed, and John jumped.

"Damn Dean," He had the gun pointed at his son, a finger on the trigger. "Scare the shit out of your old man why don't ya?"

Dean never said a word, but Sam could see that his eyes were blood shot. Sam had seen that look before. Time and time again after they had a hard fight, Dean would get piss ass drunk, and his eyes would get that way. God, his twelve year old brother was blitzed.

Another scene bled into this one, one scarier then the last. Dean was now seventeen. He was sitting alone in his room, a knife in his right hand, blood dripping from his wrists. His eyelids twitched, fluttered, then closed. The blood flowed to the cheap brown carpet, seeping into the padding below. Dean dropped the knife, then pulled his knees to his chest. His breathing was calm and slow. It was as if he wanted this, as if he wanted to die. Sam yelled his brother's name, but it had no effect.

This image was gone, followed by one even more disturbing. Dean had lived through his suicide attempt. Their father had found him minutes later, and rushed him to the hospital. Now Dean was twenty-three. He was sitting at a bar, and Sam could see that he had been there for quite a while. There were at least seven empty glasses of Whisky sitting in front of him, and he was half way through his eighth. As he slammed the now empty glass on the bar, a gorgeous brunette walked up to him. Her name was Sheila. As Dean told her, 'I don't want to fucking know, and I don't fucking care.' He grabbed her hard and kissed her forcefully. She pulled back, blood on her bottom lip. He had bit it. She smiled, but Sam could see that it was forced.

Dean practically drug Sheila out of the bar and shoved her into his car. He did not have the same car. It was a '75 Barracuda, fire red. The front end had a huge dent in it, and was about to get an even bigger one.

Dean pulled out of the lot, swerving out of the way of large semi. Sheila yelped, but did not move. She reached for a seat belt, but there wasn't one. Dean had them removed. He did not like to be confined. As he hit the blacktop, he slammed on the gas, and the car jolted forward, the speedometer racing up to eighty in seconds. Sheila screamed for Dean to slow down, but he wasn't listening. The stereo was blaring loudly. Ozzy was an Iron Man, and was ready to spread some fucking fear.

As the 'cuda hit one hundred, Sheila began to cry. She wished she had just stayed home that night. Dean was singing along to Ozzy, banging his fist on the steering wheel.

"Ain't this cherry bitch?" Dean yelled over the guitar solo. Sheila could only stare at him. He was scaring the hell out of her. She wanted out, and now! Dean hit the clutch, switched gears, then turned a tight corner. He laughed as he saw cherries ahead. The police were waiting at a speed trap just down the road, and Dean never dropped one ounce of speed. In fact, he went even faster. Now he was going one ten, and as he saw the cop car, he stuck his arm out and flicked them off. They turned their lights on, and chased after Dean.

Dean laughed loudly, turning the radio up as far as is could go. Sheila clasped her hands to her ears, and screamed. Dean turned violently to the left, but he misjudged the sharpness and with his speed, the car bucked, then spun. It hit a large boulder at the side of the road, and the sound was deafening. It bounced up, then slammed down hard. Dean had been thrown from the wreck, tossed into a nearby cornfield, while Sheila had been knocked through the windshield and hit the boulder head first. The cops stopped behind the wreck, and quickly ran to it. When they saw that Dean was nowhere in sight, they rushed to the cornfield, the only possible conclusion.

Finally everything ended, the scenes, the pain, all of it. The darkness began to subside, and the colours began to pull away from each other and form into regular images. Sam rubbed his pained eyes and scanned his surroundings. He was back in the bar he had started in. The heavy metal band was still playing, and the lead singer was eyeing him suspiciously. Sam was lying on the floor in the fetal position, his arms gripping his knees hard. He sat up and saw the same three people in the bar, and they stared down at him. Dana ran to him and helped him up.

"Jesus in a mini bus kid," she said lifting him to his feet. His head swam and he came close to throwing up on her Christmas sweater. "You gave us such a fright there."

She walked him to the bar and poured a glass of water for him. Earl's buddy looked him over, then whispered something to Earl. Earl smiled, but said nothing. Sam took a sip from the glass, then closed his eyes. All the images swam about, banging into each other, like a pinball in a high scoring game. He set the glass down, and knew that he was about to blow. Dana could read his face, and rushed him to the men's room. He just barely made it, his stomach almost in his throat. Sam sat beside the toilet, breathing heavily. He knew he could never get those thoughts out of his head, knew they would plague his dreams forever.

Fifteen minutes later he exited the bathroom. Dana stood in the hallway, holding a towel and a fresh glass of water. He looked at her, then backed against the walk. The blood, the kiss, the snow. That was how it all started in the first place. She caught the fear on his face, and concern crossed hers. She moved toward Sam, but he slid past her, avoiding her at all costs.

"Kid, is everything okay? I mean you look like you've seen a ghost." She took another step forward, and Sam ran away from her and out of the bar. Earl and his buddy watched the door open and slam shut, then just stared at each other.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam ran straight to the motel and almost didn't stop when he got to the door. He bent over and gripped his knees. The wind had taken up residence in his lungs, and it burned. He breathed hard, his breath floating away on the night air. Once his heart slowed he leaned against the wall. That was when he noticed that Dean's car was not parked where it had been. He stood and scanned the lot, but it was nowhere to be seen. Then a thought came to Sam. Maybe Dean went out looking for him. That was the only logical reason for Dean to go anywhere in this crazy weather on Christmas.

Sam turned to the door and searched his pants pocket for his key, but felt nothing. He looked in his other pocket, but it wasn't there either. Checking all his coat pockets, he came back empty handed. He was even missing his wallet and cell. How long had he been out? Maybe the guys at the bar were screwing with him, and had decided to fuck with the sick kid.

He trudged back to the bar. Inside Earl had a hand on his buddy's leg and whispering in his ear. His buddy was smiling from ear to ear. His own hand was on Earl's thick neck. Sam instantly felt sick, but it wasn't from what he was seeing. He missed Dean, and he so wanted to apologize for what he had said. Everything he had seen had just sent him over the edge. He did not like it.

Dana saw him and walked up to him. He watched her, but made no indication that he was going to move. She smiled, and waved at a stool, but he shook his head.

"No, I only came back to ask you something." He looked once again at the two men who were now kissing. _Fifteen years was long enough for him I guess,_ Sam thought.

"I need to know if any of you happened upon my wallet, keys or cell?" He shoved his hands into his pockets and flipped them inside out. Dana shook her head, and the other two never even looked at him.

"Hey, dick head." Dana smacked her brother on the back of the head. He glared at her, but turned around just the same.

"The kid wants to know if we know what happened to his belongings." She leaned on the bar, eyes never leaving Sam.

Earl turned to face Sam. A sly smile crossed his face. "If I did, do you think I would tell your sweet ass." His eyes dropped to Sam's crotch hungrily. Sam wanted the hell out of this nightmare or whatever the hell this was.

Earl's buddy yanked at his arm, pulling him back to reality. "Gary, what..." he whispered softly. Gary gestured wildly, then pointed at Sam. Earl turned back to Sam, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, but not saying a word.

"Um, kid, did you come out here with anyone?" Dana watched her brother a moment, then looked back at Sam, whom nodded. _This bitch knew that, _Sam thought. _She knew everything, or did she? _His head hurt thinking about it.

"My brother and I rented a room at the motel, but his car is gone. I think maybe he went to a store or something. There might be something open around here..." Sam turned toward the door, the lie trickling from his lips faster than he realized it. He knew damn well nothing would be open tonight. Dean would be out searching for his sorry ass, and was now probably worried as hell.

"Well, the only place open tonight is Ralph's Quickie Mart on the edge of the highway. He's open all year long, 24/7." She was looking out the front window into the snow that had slowed considerably.

"I think I'll go back to the motel and wait. The weather seems to have let up a bit." Sam lifted his collar up to his ears, and was out the doors before she could say another word. Anything else and he might have had a full blown conniption.

The snow had pretty much ceased, but the wind was a bitch. It blew Sam's hair around his face so violently he could barely see. He tripped twice, almost fell once. Stumbling the last couple feet to the motel, he saw that Dean was still not there, but what he did see started the hell out of him. Sitting right next to his brother's empty parking spot, was his father's Ford pick-up.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry the last chapter was so short, but that was the way it saved on my WordPerfect...Hope this chapter is a bit longet and whets your appetite a bit more...I hope nothing that you have read has been confusing. If so, I am sooooo sorry. I have tried hard to keep everything on an even keel. Let me know how it's going so far!!!

m00-chan: Where's Dean?! You just have to stay tuned, you will figure it all out very shortly...and yes the boys are very angsty, but would we love them if they weren't? Hehe...

Put those remotes away, Channel hell is live and on the air!!

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Sam ran up to it an saw a wool jacket sitting on the passenger seat. The same one his father had bought when Sam was...born. _Okay Sam,_ he said to himself, _that was all bullshit. You are just so fucking miserable, that everything that you are seeing is a 'fig newton' of your imagination, as Dean would say. _He leaned over to look into the bed of the truck when a man came out of the room next to his. The man looked to be about 6' tall with dark features. He coughed loudly then walked to his truck. A street lamp stood over them, and Sam almost melted with the snow. It was his father, alive and kicking. John saw Sam eying the truck and smiled at him.

"She's a beaut ain't she. Had her for as long as I can remember." His father pointed at the solid hunk of steel at his right. Sam stood mortified. Here was the man he had hated for years, and now he wanted to hug him till it hurt, but he acted as if Sam was a stranger.

"Yeah I know Dad, you bought the thing when you and mom got married. Dean was conceived in the bed, I've heard the story one hundred times." He said all this blandly, still eying this man, this ghost of a man he had prayed for the last three months. So many things he had said to him on that final day came flooding back to him, and tears fell down his eyes.

"I have no idea how you know that, or how you know about my son. I think you need to move along kid." John pushed at Sam, who normally would have stood his ground with this cankerous old bastard, but right now he was too lost in his thoughts to care.

"D...Dad. It's me Sam." He moved toward his father, when John stopped dead in his tracks. He looked back at the young man behind him.

"What did you say your name was?" He stared at Sam closely, not sure if he had heard him correctly. Sam repeated himself. John leaned back against his truck.

"I used to have a son named Sam, my wife Mary and I lost him in birth." His eyes welled up with tears. Sam had never seen his father cry before. It shocked him but at the same time gave him a sense of pride. At least John wasn't as hard as he had thought.

"Then I lost Mary..." Sam finished his sentence. "In a horrible fire." John stood up straight and gave Sam a look that could only mean one thing.

"How the hell do you know so much about me? My family's names, intimate details about my life? Who sent you?" He made a move to open the passenger door, then stopped. He looked at Sam a moment, then something came over him. He was not sure what it was, but he felt a strange connection with this boy. He had never met him before in his life, but he seemed to know him. Deja Vu really kicks your ass.

"Well, maybe I could at least offer you something to drink, since you seem to be on such friendly terms with me." He gestured toward his room, and Sam followed. He did not know what the hell was going on, but he would take it any way he got it.

Inside the room, Sam saw it was drastically different to what he was used to seeing. The bed was made, clothes were in a neat pile on a chair by the door, and the duffle he carried was nowhere to be seen. Sam asked about the latter, and John tightened up.

"Damn kid, you have a way of sticking it in and breaking it the fuck off, pardon my french." He sat down heavily on the bed. On the bedside table was single picture. It was Dean. He was maybe between 20 or 25. A lot younger than he was now. Of course it made sense that John would have one that old, considering he was not around enough to update his photo album. Yet, this picture showed a darker side of Dean, one Sam had never seen before.

Sam picked it up and examined Dean's features. There were dark circles under both eyes, his skin was dry and patchy, and he looked a tad thin. Even his clothes were all wrong. Gone were the jeans and leather jacket. In their place were camouflage pants and a bomber jacket. Just visible above the collar of the jacket was a snake tattoo. Dean didn't have any.

"Why such a dark and morbid picture, if you don't mind me asking?" Sam handed the photo to his father, now not sure what was real and what wasn't. John held it and breathed hard.

"This was the last photo he ever sent me. I excepted it, even though I knew it would be the last." He shifted on the bed, making it creak in the small room.

"You see, Dean had been troubled ever since his mother died. In actuality it began when his brother died at birth. He had wanted a little brother so bad he could taste it. We almost lost his mother then, but then six months later...well you know. Dean somehow blamed himself, and everything went downhill from there. He began drinking at an early age. I knew he had been, you can't miss a drunken ten year old." he chuckled lightly, then continued. "Things got continually worse after that. We went on hunts, as you pointed out, but he never seemed to be into them. His head was always somewhere else." John watched Sam nod knowingly. He did not like it.

"Then at the age of seventeen I found him locked in his room, both wrists slit. I barely made it in time to get him to the hospital. I did the worst thing a father could do after that. Instead of supporting him, understanding his reasoning, I kicked him out." John sighed, mentally kicking himself. Sam listened to all this, soaking it all in. The images flashed by once again as his father spoke, making him want to vomit.

"Then, he did the ultimate. He got a young woman killed." John slammed the picture face down on the bed, tears slipping down his face. This hurt Sam more than anything he could have put upon himself tonight. "He was driving too fast and crashed his car, and she didn't make it. Dean did, and somehow got away. I get a call from him a year and a half later. He calls me all sloshed, talking about how he had 'done a bad thing and needed to be punished.'

"I tried to talk to him, but kept getting the same thing out of him. The more I pushed the worse he got. After he hung up I re-routed the number through the phone company and got his address. I made several attempts to go in there, but he wouldn't let me. Finally on that day...that...I called the cops for help and they broke the door down. They...they found him..."

John stopped. Tears flowed down his face hitting the mattress, causing small puddles. Sam shot up, almost stumbling over his own feet. What the hell was going on here? His father was telling him a bullshit story, one those damn Daemons had to of planted in his subconscious. It was the perfect way to keep him out of the business forever. Sam felt like he needed to look around for fucking pod people now.

"Are you telling me that Dean is, dead?" Sam glanced at the picture on the bed. His head was spinning. He needed to get out of here, he needed air.

"Yes, my son was in his tub, with both of his wrists slit. This time he did it the right way. No margin for error I suppose." John laughed nervously, then stood. "I think we both should be on our way. It is Christmas after all, and I know you should be somewhere, right?" Those last few words were loaded. Sam backed up slightly, and nodded. He turned, opened the door and was outside almost before he had it opened all the way.

John slammed the door hard, and sat down on the bed. He grabbed the picture glancing down at Dean's sullen face.

"Why did you have to fucking do it?" With that, the frame sailed across the room, the glass shattering.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm going to keep you in suspense a little longer...here you go.  
Thank you so much to the loyal reviewers (you know who you are...) You make my day guys!! ;)  
You asked for it, hope it is up to all your warped standards!!  
Enjoy!!

**Disclaimer:** Keep forgetting to say this, but hasn't it been said enough on here? I own only Dana, Earl, Gary, and a new charcter introduced here. All others are the sole property of the WB/CW. I wish I owned the Winchesters' for then I would no longer live a dull, boring life, but I digress...

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This was all coming at him way too goddamn fast. In the span of only a couple hours, he had pissed off his brother, met some crazy bar patrons, had a vision from hell, and then met his 'dead' father again for the first time (or whatever). It was too much for him to handle. He just wished that Dean would get back from Bumfuck Hells Half Acre, or wherever he was. Then Sam realized that the only thing he had right now was that bar, that goddamned bar. Shuffling back there, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something was in the air, and it was bad. 

As he entered it, he stood aback. It looked just as it had in his vision. Like right out of Rhinestone Cowboy. Dana was behind the counter wiping it down, her hair no longer in a ponytail, but down at her shoulders. Her eyes were concentrating on her work at hand, so he walked slowly up to the bar. She stopped cleaning when she heard him. Lifting her head, he saw what he had feared. Sam backed up and hit the floor. Dana smiled, and was instantly at his side, lifting him up.

"Well Sammy, have you got it yet?" Her fiery breath lingered on his ear. It tickled like a silk scarf on a windy day. Sam shrunk under her presence. "Have you figured it out?" She almost purred.

The visions in his head started once again, causing him to shout in pain. Although, this time they ran backwards. Sam could see every little detail on rewind, and it was even more mortifying. It all began to slow down as it reached the beginning, when he and Dana were in the snow eye. That was when things got really strange.

The vision was no longer in his head, but now playing out right in front of him. If he had the strength, and courage, he could reach out and touch it. He could see himself on the ground, as he was now, the pain shooting through him. Then he heard himself say those five words: "I wish I was dead!" Then he heard Dana say a few more things, then she said something that he had forgotten. "Oh, by the way, this comes with one small proviso." Then she had vanished, leaving him to come to in this tavern.

The scene left him, and his heart stopped pounding in his ears. He struggled to sit upright. Dana was gone, of course. The tavern was still the same. "Proviso?" Oh my god, Dean. Sam leapt off the floor, then fell back down. He had gotten up way too fast, and the floor seemed to teeter totter. He sat for a few minutes, then tried again. This time successfully. He sped out the door faster than he had before, and ran to the motel office.

Sitting behind the desk was an elderly man. He was reading a day old newspaper, and drinking coffee. A twinge jumped in Sam's gut. Dean and his damn coffee. What have I done?

The old man continued to read his periodical, even when Sam rang the little bell. After the sixth ring, he finally looked up, a slow smile crossing his wrinkled face. He gave Sam the once over, and leaned on the counter.

"Can I help ya son?" The owner said with a thick Texas drawl. Sam had remembered him when he and Dean had checked in two nights ago. Sam had told him that he reminded him of their grandpa.

"I checked in two nights ago, in room ten, with my brother." He watched the old man rub his chin with intense thought, then a moment later shook his head.

"Sorry sonny. That room is rented out to a married couple by the name of Martin. Maybe you got yur numbers mixed or sumthin'?" He shrugged his shoulders, but Sam stood his ground.

"You remember me, I said that you reminded me of my grandfather." The old man shook his head. "Son, I get that all the time. I just have that face, ya know?" He smiled sweetly. Sam grunted. "Yeah, well then my brother said that I couldn't possibly remember him I was only a year old when he passed."

The man sat there a moment, but still nothing. Sam turned and left, leaving the old man completely stumped.

Sam stood in front of motel room ten, not sure what he was going to find behind it. Maybe with his luck, Pennywise the Clown would open up and tear him to pieces. Well, just maybe. Instead, he held his breath, and knocked. He heard a faint sound from behind the door, but since Dean's car was still not in its designated spot, he was hoping against hope here. The door creaked open and a man, not his brother, stepped into the cold night air.

"What do you want?" The man's close cropped blonde hair was sticking out with cowlicks. He ran a hand through it, but little good it did. Sam looked at him, but said nothing. "I said what do you want? It's colder than a witch's left titty in a brass bra in Gnome Alaska out here, so you better have a good fucking reason for disturbing me and my wife's sleep."

Sam just made up something about a wrong room and backed away from the man. The door slammed shut. _Well, that was that Sam old boy. Life is over as you know it. You asked for it, and boy did you get it, two fucking fold. _He slowly made his way back to his safe haven and sat down on the steps. Now all the lights were out, even the sign. The parking lot was deserted, not a trace that there had been a person there in the first place. Sam dropped his face into his hands, so pissed at himself for being so damned selfish. He wanted to curse the world, but that was pretty much what he had done, and look where it had gotten him.

As he sat there, a small soul of only twelve sat down beside him. She was dressed in green and had blue eyes that sparkled, even in this darkness. Long flaxen hair flowed out behind her, shining brightly, yet there was no source of light to be seen. Her looks were something that were astounding. For a child of such short years, he features were that of someone much older. Her round face, high cheeks bones, aquiline nose, and voluptuous lips made many a man fall at her feet. Even her voice was wrong for her small body. Whenever she opened her full lips, a song would spring forth. Silky smooth and radiant. Like a fine wine, succulent.

She reached a small hand to Sam's larger one and he jumped. Then he saw her beauty and was taken in, not realizing her age.

"That's okay Sam, you wouldn't be the first." She said, still touching his hand. He sat back in shock. She had read his thoughts. _Oh God, here we go again._

"Don't worry, I am nothing like Dana. She was just a devil's pawn." As she said this, she stroked his hand, and his nerves calmed, but he couldn't figure out why, because his head was telling him something was wrong here.

"You have to trust me, for Dean." She had him now. Damned if she didn't. She held his hand tight, then pulled it to her lips, kissing it gently. It was strange, but it felt nice. She smiled, then blushed.

"I am sorry. My manners escape me. My name is Raina. I, of course know yours." She let his hand slip back into his lap. His eyes never left her strange alluring beauty. There was something about her Sam just couldn't put his finger on.

"You'll know in time, but for now all you need to know is what has happened, and why." She placed a small finger to his forehead and a strange feeling came over him, but it was soothing, not painful. He felt himself falling away into a pool of water. It covered him, yet he did not fear it, but embraced it.

"Remember what was said Sam...was said Sam, it will make it all clear to you...clear to you" Raina's voice came to him as a slight echo. The water parted, and Sam could hear Dana once again, then saw the images slide together like a puzzle, seeing the guy in his room as the last piece. Raina removed her finger, smiling.

"Do you see Sam, do you realize what she did to you?" She took his hand again. Sam nodded, breathing hard. She lifted him to his feet. Then, waving her hand in front of his face, she spoke four words.

"All will be well." Then she was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

One more chapter to go...Hope it all rounds out in the end...The last chapter (after this one of course...LOL) has a nice little twist to it, you may have already seen it coming, or not...I thought it was perfect for the holidays!!

So I will say it again...Happy Holidays!!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything I didn't invent, so there!! LOL

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Sam shook off the after effects of what had just happened. Okay, that was too much. As he shook his head, he saw something out of the corner of his eyes that almost gave him a coronary. There was Dean's Impala, parked at a crazy angle. Good old Dean. Sam half walked half ran to the motel room door, and without thinking, thrust his hand into his pockets for the key. To his amazement, it was there, along with his wallet and cell. He almost jumped for joy. Putting the key in the lock, he opened the door.

Everything was as he had left it, save for his brother. He was gone. Sam's heart fell into his stomach. Another fucking trick. _Way to go Sam, can't keep it together for five seconds can ya? _He smashed his face with his hand, just as he heard the door click open. He stood still, praying he had been wrong.

"Fuck, shit, that kid is gonna wish he was dead, cause if not I'm gonna kill him." Dean flung the door open, and Sam could see in the mirror in front of him that he was still wearing the sweater. Tears let loose and he turned fast on his heels. Dean did not have a second to react before Sam slammed into him like a football linebacker. They both went down hard on the cheaply carpeted floor, heads banging first each other then the floor.

"Fuck..." Was all Dean could muster. Sam had his lips on Dean's mouth so quick he could hardly breathe. So many emotions were behind that kiss that he just couldn't think straight. He didn't even realize that his head had a small gash in it. Dean struggled to sit up, but Sam wouldn't have it. He pushed his mouth harder onto Dean's, and this time Dean couldn't breathe. With what little strength he had left, he tossed Sam to the floor, breathing in a mixture of cold air, sweat and fresh blood. He almost gagged.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean sat up, a hand on his left leg to sturdy himself. Sam's head was bleeding pretty good now. A crazy smile was plastered on Sam's face. Dean saw this, and backed up. The boy's lost all his fucking marbles, Dean thought, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

"Dean..." Sam lunged for his brother again, but Dean blocked him. Dean grabbed Sam's arms and held them. Sam breathed heavily and almost liquified. So much had happened that he had finally lost it all. Dean felt his brother droop in his grasp, so he let him go. Sam's eyes showed him all he needed to know. The hell he had been through since he had left him must have been enormous.

"Sammy...Sam," Dean corrected himself. Sam looked at him, no longer smiling. He was looking down at his hands, his heart beating like a drum. Dean continued.

"What, what happened to you out there?" He placed a hand on his brother's, and Sam gripped it. Tears fell like a river from Sam's now scared eyes.

"It was so horrible Dean." Sam started, wiping tears away. Dean never took his eyes away from him. If this was what Sammy had set out to do, scare the shit out of him, he had accomplished it.

Sam coughed, then told Dean everything, every terrible detail. Dean fell back against the door, not believing what he was hearing. When Sam was done, Dean grabbed his brother and looked him hard in the eye.

"Sammy, hate to put another scare into that nightmare of yours, but you were only out there like fifteen minutes."

Sam pulled back from his brother, shaking his head violently. "No, I know what happened. I was gone for so long." He turned away from Dean, ignoring the look he had given him. Fifteen minutes, that was impossible. Now his head really did hurt. None of it was real, none of it. The visions, his dad, and Raina. Who was she anyway? She looked so damn familiar. Yet if it was in his head, she would just be a manifestation of something or someone he already knew. Was Dana real? That would explain where all the goddamn visions came from.

"I guess you're right Dean, maybe I just imagined it all." He agreed mechanically. He half believed it. Something kept tugging at him, something just wouldn't let go.

"Well, let's get you cleaned up, you head looks pretty sore there." Dean pointed at his brother's forehead. Sam turned to the mirror on the far wall. He saw the small cut that had taken home over his left eye. A matching set. Dean stood, moving toward the bathroom. Sam stopped him, a hand on his chest. Dean looked down at the barrier, then up at his brother. Sam was smiling again, this time seductively. It was a look he had not seen on the younger man's face in a long time. His stomach jumped.

"I, um, I'm sorry for everything I put you through." Sam moved his hand to Dean's left shoulder. He gripped it tightly. Dean nodded, but said nothing. "I was a bastard, and you did not deserve to be kicked in the ass all the time." Sam moved toward him, his eyes half closed. Dean slipped his own hand around Sam's thin waist.

"Yes I did. It wasn't like I wasn't a major fuck-up myself." He kissed Sam tenderly on the lips. "I guess we both needed a wake up call. It could have gone a whole hell of a lot better on your end mind ya, but..." He chuckled, then put both arms around Sam, hugging him hard. Sam nestled his head into his brother's neck, smelling the night air. Somehow after all he had gone through, the smell was inviting.


	8. Chapter 8

Here is the final chapter!! Hope you enjoyed the story!!

Happy Holidays!!

**Disclaimer:** If I don't own it, there is nothing you can do to me! LOL

**Question:** Now that you have read it this way...should I re-write it from Dean's POV?? Meaning he is the one who has made the wish...so you get more Dean...(always a good thing!! ;P ) Let me know!!

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Later that evening, they were finally intimate. It was the best they had ever had together, and left Dean begging for more. Once Dean was asleep, Sam sat up beside him, watching him. Dean's eyes fluttered, and he tossed a bit, but other than that his sleep was uneventful. Occasionally Sam would stroke Dean's hair, making his slight fits stop. He leaned back against the headboard, still thinking about everything that had transpired. It was still so crazy to think that he had only been out there for fifteen minutes. As he sat there, the feeling in the room changed. It was familiar, but he could not place it. A second later a glowing figure emerged at the end of the bed. Sam pushed up against the bed, and could go no further. 

"Silly Sammy." The small voice said. Sam instantly moved from the headboard. He knew the voice, and welcomed it. He had not been insane after all.

"No, you were not and are not." She had done it again. It sort of crept him out. "Your next question I can answer simply. Everything did happen to you, but in such a way as to not bring any attention to outsiders." Raina smiled. Why the hell did what she say make him shiver?

"The tavern you were accosted at, was full of patrons this evening. Still is. Dana had to work around it." She stood there, as if everything she said was just so obvious. "She had a time limit to work with, you know how the Daemons are. Since you asked to be dead, and remember you had also asked to never have been born earlier in the evening, she took advantage of that. She played with your very fears, showing you what would happen if you hadn't been."

Sam closed his eyes. It was so obvious. He was Jimmy fucking Stewart in a sick version of 'It's a Wonderful Life.' Christ.

"Language Sam, please." Raina rolled her eyes. Sam bit his top lip, afraid to think anything around her.

"Then I came to make it all well. If I hadn't, I knew what you would have done. I knew you would have literally wasted away to nothing thinking that what you were seeing had been real. In your present mental state, you would have taken the steps of your 'vision' brother. Too much had happened for you not to."

Sam only sat there. He wasn't sure if he would or not, but if she had been able to read him so far, why doubt her now. Raina stood there a moment, now silent. Then she smiled.

"I think it is time for you to know who I am. It is Christmas after all."

Sam watched as her features extended. She now looked like a woman in her late twenties. Sam almost fainted as the realization smacked him like a glove. The woman standing in front of him, that had been using the name Raina, was his very own mother.

"M...Mom?" Sam said barely above a whisper. He reached for Dean, touching his shoulder. He grunted, but did not move. This time he shook him, and he made a barking sound.

"Wha...I'm not in the mood Sammy, leave me alone." He rolled back over, but Sam grabbed his shoulder hard.

"Dean, look at the end of the bed." His eyes had never left the woman standing there. She was aglow, still in green. Her blue eyes filled with so much life. Sam wanted to jump up and hug her, but he couldn't get his legs to move.

Dean struggled to sit up, the sheet was tangled in he and Sam's leg's. He yanked at it, then moved to a sitting position. He saw what Sam had been blubbering about, and his jaw dropped.

"Mom?" His eyes tried to believe what he was seeing, while his heart had already fallen.

Their mother looked down on them and smiled sweetly.

"Yes boys, I'm here. In fact I always have been. You just have to look hard." She looked at them both. A small smile crept onto her angelic face. "Oh and, I understand. Times get hard, and your father was never there for you. No one else may be, but know that you mother is always there for you. When times are desperate, I will be there."

They looked at each other. Their mother knew about their situation. Yet it did not upset her. Dean took Sam's hand and held it, a tear falling from his eye. He looked back at his mother and smiled. She nodded.

"Dean, you take care of yourself and your brother. You are all you have. Your love is strong, and no one can take that from you. Please don't forget that." Mary began to slowly fade, and the boys watched in eery silence as she became nothing but a glimmer.

"And Sam remember," their mother's voice was far away and distant. They could just barely hear her. "To everything, there is a season." With that, she was gone.


End file.
